I’ve always made a habit of sourcing out live music. And the pubs here in Scotland are especially frequented by individuals who can play ballads of traditional folk music. Foot-tapping though they may be, you can’t help but feel that the melodies whisper tales of bygone epochs. A recent rendition of “Arthur McBride and the Sergeant" emerged as one such luminous gem in the brightly lit Old Chain Pier… amongst others like “Bonnie Bessie Logan”, “The Grey Funnel Line”, and “The Cuckoo” – a traditional English folk song [in my opinion best sung by Doc Watson].
Although all timeless ballads, roots tethered to the past, “Arthur McBride” and its clear references to the 17th century found its way to the top of my playlist several times before I took the time to research it further. The song is part of contemporary resonance largely through Paul Brady’s masterful interpretation. And although I found he very brilliantly breathed new life into its verses, the words demanded more attention in the historiographical sense. I figured this might make a nice #teamuk post, so here we go...
According to Stephen Winick’s article, accessible here, drawn to the allure of traditional folk music, Brady ventured into the realms of New England - where fate intertwined his path with that of a songstress named Carrie Grover. From her lips flowed a rendition of “Arthur McBride” that piqued Brady’s attention, igniting within him a fervent desire to infuse the song with his own unique essence.
** I have to note that this aspect of music – the sharing and experimentation, comradery and fun – I adore and advocate for… Thinking about it takes me back to sitting in front of a piano, playing a few well-known chords, sometimes with someone matching the melody on their guitar. Alone or together letting the music drift organically into something different... whether that be with tempo changes, chord transitions, or the addition of dancing, singing, laughing... Creating tunes, or simply adjusting what’s already there, can be in essence so creative, free-spirited. Some of the most exhilarating, engaging, happiest moments in recent years have been those times spent jamming with others. I'm sure those of us here who play an instrument will understand!
Carrie Grover with a fiddle on her porch > source
The beginning of the transcription of “Arthur McBride” from Grover’s book "A Heritage of Songs" > source
Lisa Null, a prominent figure in the folk music scene and business partner to Patrick Sky in the initial stages of the Innisfree record label, played a pivotal role in Paul Brady's encounter with the treasure trove of Carrie Grover's musical legacy. It was through Null that Brady got access to Grover's self-published work, "A Heritage of Songs", nestled within the confines of Sky's abode. You can now purchase the book online via this link, as part of the Carrie Grover project, which collects all of Grover’s known songs - along with podcasts and other writings about her by Julie Mainstone.
Brady’s rendition of “Arthur McBride”, captured on the 1976 album alongside Andy Irvine, is hailed by many as the definitive interpretation of the song. But it’s origins drift way back into Irish origin.
"Arthur McBride and the Sergeant" (also called "The Recruiting Sergeant") is a folk song that describes a violent altercation with a recruiting sergeant (a British officer tasked to enlist recruits). It can be narrowly categorized as an "anti-recruiting" song, a specific form of anti-war song, and more broadly as a protest song. And although the origins of the song are uncertain, there is some speculation that – with the inclusion of being "sent to France" – it references the Napoleonic Wars of the early 19th Century. Others suggest a more antiquated lineage, tracing back to the late 17th century… However, according to SecondHandSongs the song may also be connected to the Williamite War in Ireland, where the disbanded Irish Jacobite army were sent from Ireland to France following the terms of the Treaty of Limerick in 1691.
Still from the 1978 short-film called "Christmas Morning" - brings the old Irish anti-war song to life > source
The song follows the protagonist, joined by his cousin/loyal friend, Arthur McBride, taking a stroll along the seaside on Christmas morning. They find themselves confronted by three imposing figures from the British Army: a recruiting sergeant, a corporal, and a diminutive drummer. Despite the sergeant's enticing offers of recruitment rewards and “resplendent” uniforms, our duo staunchly refuse to heed the call to arms, rejecting the grim prospect of distant battlefields. Incensed by their defiance, the sergeant's threats escalate, prompting confrontation. Swords are drawn, but are ultimately met with the formidable force of the protagonists' “shillelaghs”.
** I had the impression that a shillelagh was a storm cloud… but thank god I looked it up because a shillelagh is actually a traditional Irish fighting weapon with the appearance of a short, wooden stick and copper piece knob at the end.
And thus, with resounding defiance, the soldiers are swiftly subdued... their weapons cast into the depths of the sea.
The song, rather poignant and graphic at times, is also lilting, beautiful. It speaks to the human tenacity to stand up against oppression - to fight for what's just. And it playfully captures the imagination in a lighthearted way. Being a heritage enthusiast, I have to thank Carrie Grover for showing such foresight in choosing to preserving the tune and words of "Arthur McBride" in her books. I only wish she knew how much of a gift her tune has been.
With that, I'd best be off.
But before I go, here are the lyrics to "Arthur McBride" - sourced from musixmatch.
Don't forget to sing a little.
Arthur McBride and the Sergeant
Oh, me and my cousin one Arthur McBride
As we went a-walking down by the seaside
Now mark what followed and what did betide
For it being on Christmas morning
Out for recreation we went on a tramp
And we met sergeant napper and corporal vamp
And the little wee drummer intending to camp
For the day being pleasant and charming
"Good morning, good morning, " the sergeant did cry
"And the same to you gentlemen, " we did reply
Intending no harm but meant to pass by
For it being on Christmas morning
But says he, "My fine fellows if you would enlist"
"It's ten guineas of gold I will slip in your fist"
"And a crown in the bargain for to kick up the dust"
"And drink the king's health in the morning"
"For a soldier he leads a very fine life"
"And he always is blessed with a charming young wife"
"And he pays all his debts without sorrow and strife"
"And always lives pleasant and charming"
"And a soldier he always is decent and clean"
"In the finest of clothing he is constantly seen"
"While other poor fellows go dirty and mean"
"And sup on thin gruel in the morning"
But says Arthur, "I wouldn't be proud of your clothes"
"For you've only the lend of them as I suppose"
"And you dare not change them one night for you know"
"If you do you'll be flogged in the morning"
"And although that we are single and free"
"We take great delight in our own company"
"And we have no desires strange faces to see"
"Although that your offers are charming"
"And we have no desire to take your advance"
"All hazards and dangers we barter on chance"
"For you would have no scruples to send us to france"
"Where we would get shot without warning"
"Oh now, " says the sergeant, "I'll have no such chat"
"And I neither will take it from small penal brats"
"For if you insult me with one other word"
"I'll cut off your heads in the morning"
And then Arthur and I we soon drew our hods
And we scarce gave them time for to draw their own blades
When a trusty shillelagh came over their heads
And bade them take that as fair warning
And their own rusty rapiers that hung by their sides
We flung them as far as we could in the tide
"Now take them up devils!" cried Arthur McBride
"And temper their edge in the morning"
And the little wee drummer we flattened his bow
And we made a football of his rowdy-dow-dow
Threw it in the tide for to rock and to roll
And bade it a tedious returning
And we haven't no money paid them off in cracks
And we paid no respect to their two bloody backs
For we lathered them there like a pair of wet sacks
And left them for dead in the morning
And so to conclude and to finish disputes
We obligingly asked them if they wanted recruits
For we were the lads who would give them hard clouts
And bid them look sharp in the morning
Oh, me and my cousin one Arthur McBride
As we went a-walking down by the seaside
Now mark what followed and what did betide
For it being on Christmas morning
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Photographs: unless otherwise noted, all images were taken by me with an iPhone 8.